


you are invited to a remarkable family gathering

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (and would really rather NOT be), (for fairly better reasons than usual), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Drinking to Cope, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fluff and Crack, I Blame Tumblr, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Inappropriate Humor, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow knows something, M/M, Multi, Poor Theon, Robb Stark is a Gift, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Weddings, What Was I Thinking?, in which things start cracky and end up completely ballistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Robb begs Theon to come with him to his aunt's wedding and has way too much to drink, Jon hates his biological parents, Jon Connington shares wise and sage advice in regards to gay sex and Theon doesn't know how he ended up talking to Prince Charles on the phone but he's <i>never</i> in his life attending a Stark-Targaryen wedding again even if they pay him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which Robb can be convincing

**Author's Note:**

> I was taking prompts on tumblr and someone left me throbb + _just this once_. I have no clue of why instead of going for the angst I went for the first part of this complete ridiculousness, but then [charleywng](http://charleywng.tumblr.com/) liked it and when she asked for the same ship and _come over here and make me_ I figured I'd write her the sequel where they actually go to the wedding. Then [thequeenrhaenyra](http://thequeenrhaenyra.tumblr.com/) wanted Jon/Sam and _You heard me. Take. It. Off_ and I figured WHY NOT WRITING THE THIRD PART, and then since it was the POV of someone who wasn't at the wedding and [ayaawesome](http://ayaawesome.tumblr.com) was like 'but the things you referenced should exist' I also wrote the fourth part because I could.
> 
> Tldr this is basically Rhaegar and Lyanna get married in sort of Brit black comedy style while being oblivious that their respective relatives all hate each other and shit happens and I don't even know how it happened, but I'll just leave it here for posterity. The title is one of the taglines of the Royal Tenenbaums (listen, I couldn't find one and it fit perfectly, what can I do XD) and nothing belongs to me ESPECIALLY the real people mentioned in here.

“Forget it,” Theon says.

“I haven’t even finished -”

“No.”

“Fine, can I ask why?”

“Are you even -  _no._ I mean, I don’t go to  _weddings_ , and I certainly don’t go to your aunt’s wedding when she’s getting married to fucking nobility or whatever Targaryens qualify for. I mean, have you  _seen_  me?”

“We’ve been together for five years and I’ve known you since we were six, where are you aiming at?”

“For - Robb, I don’t have the right clothes, I’m pretty sure that time my dad got himself arrested for  _drug trafficking_  was on the newspapers, I didn’t even go to birthday parties in elementary school that weren’t yours and do you think  _I_  will show up at a wedding that’s going to end up on gossip newspapers?”

“You’re worrying too much.”

“No, I’m telling the truth. No way. Not going.”

“Come on, just this once?”

“I don’t think your aunt is getting married  _another time_.”

“No, but I have six siblings, one engaged uncle and I imagine my aunt will gain enough new relatives - I’m pretty sure this is going to be just the first wedding in a long list. And since I don’t think we’re breaking up anytime soon, I solemnly swear that if you come to my aunt’s I’m not ever asking you to come to anyone else’s.”

For a moment Theon looks  _entirely_  terrified at the prospective of attending Stark weddings over Stark weddings through the years, not that Robb doesn’t get it - he’d rather stay home too for that matter, he never was the one for flashy and  _long_  weddings himself. Which is why he  _really_  wants Theon to come to this one - it’s happening after so much family drama and the situation is still so volatile that he doesn’t want to be on his own or just surrounded by relatives.

Also because if Jon decides to actually go (he’s more inclined towards no now, but he might change his mind) Robb will have to make sure it doesn’t end with arguments that have been brewing for the last ten years or so and which should have been had by now, if you ask for his opinion. And if it’s the case  _he_  will need someone who isn’t related to either his aunt or Rhaegar Targaryen with him just so that he might vent at them when no one pays attention.

Theon stares back at him for a while, then shrugs with resignation. “ _You_  worry about the suit I’m going to have to wear, because if I’m going, I’m not going to put myself through any extra stress.”

Robb could kiss him. Actually, since he  _can_ , he does, and Theon is maybe a bit surprised at first, but when Robb finally lets him breathe for more than five consecutive seconds some five minutes later his cheeks are flushed and he looks half turned on and half somewhat worried.

“Well, if  _that_  is how you thank me I  _might_ consider being your plus one more often, but is it really  _that_  bad?”

“Theon, those two ran away together seventeen years ago, they only showed up once to pretty much dump Jon on the doorstep before  _disappearing_  again since  _his family_  wanted her head - since he broke off an engagement to run away with my aunt. It’s been seventeen years of _utter_  drama, then they showed up again saying they had  _finally found themselves and their equilibrium_  or whatever new age stuff they’re been doing in the last decade and my brother still doesn’t know if he’s going to that wedding. And if he does he might be in his best passive-aggressive mood.”

Theon visibly shudders. “Your brother being  _passive-aggressive_  at his best isn’t anything I’d want to have turned on me,” he mutters.

“Don’t even. I mean, he has perfectly good reasons to be pissed at the both of them but Dad has been telling him to pretend not to before it ends up in some collective murder or arrest and - yeah, I need someone with me who’s  _not_  a relative. So, please? I swear, just once.”

Theon sighs. “I already told you yes, didn’t I? But if I end up embarrassing your lot it’s  _your_  fault.”

“Shut up, you’re not going to embarrass anyone. And thank you,” Robb adds, since he hasn’t said it until now. “Besides,” he says after another kiss, “you’d look good in a nice suit. I’m sure people would be too busy staring to bother about whether you know what the fifth fork on the table is for.”

“Wait, there are  _five_  forks on the table for that kind of thing?”

“I saw the pictures of the place they’re holding it in, but fuck knows what’s the fifth for. I only was explained as far as three,” Robb admits - Theon laughs against his mouth and he doesn’t feel that tense anymore.

“Fine. But you  _aren’t_  wearing that horrid red suit of yours unless you want someone to find me doing unspeakable things to you in the bathroom after ripping it off.”

“Hm, actually that might be exactly what saves the situation if things go pear shaped. I hadn’t thought about that but I  _might_  just wear it,” Robb replies - and fine, he snorts when Theon lets out a sigh that pretty much said  _why did I even open my mouth I should have just avoided bringing that up_.

“Fine.  _Whatever_ , I’ll help you scandalize people at your aunt’s wedding. But you’re going to have to make up to me for it. Starting  _now_ , maybe.”

“Bedroom’s over there. Who told you I’m not amenable?”

They never actually get to the bedroom - the sofa is too comfortable and Theon doesn’t even try to stand up before dragging Robb on top of him.

Robb is just relieved that he’s not going to have to face that disaster on his own. And if he has to make it up to Theon throughout the next two weeks before the blasted day, even better - at least  _two_  people other then the newlyweds might end up at the ceremony in a good mood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the reception is in full swing and Robb is drunk.

This is going to end up in a complete disaster before the reception is over. Robb  _knows_  it will.

He’s also plenty sure that he shouldn’t have drunk  _this_  much - he feels beyond tipsy and they’re barely finished with the first course. He’s also sharing Theon’s obvious distaste at the  _six_  forks they had in front of them - now they’re down to five, not that Robb has a clue of what he’ll need them for, but he wishes his problem were the forks. The problem is that Theon, on his left, is sending hateful glares at the forks when he’s not trying to dodge questions from the very stuck-up Targaryen person sitting next to him - Robb thinks it’s Rhaegar’s little brother. Or  _something_. Anyway said guy - was the name Viserys - doesn’t look very pleased at having ended up sitting next to someone who’s most definitely not  _at least_  upper-middle class. But that’d be the least - because Jon on his right is outright seething and trying not to show it.

And he’s sending obviously fake smiles his mother’s way whenever she tries to talk to him or looks over at him but only someone very delusional would assume he means it.

“Jon,” Robb hisses, “I  _know_  you hate this but for the love of everything,  _fake_  it or your grandf -”

Jon glares at him without saying a word.

“Or  _Aerys Targaryen_  is going to hire some assassin to take you out for the count.”

“As if,” Jon mutters.

“Have you  _seen_  him? He will. I can see him wanting to annihilate Theon and me just by staring, I doubt he’d have issues because you’re rel-”

“ _Robb_ ,” Jon hisses again.

“Fine,  _fine_ , don’t say I never warned you,” Robb mutters, and reaches for the champagne glass. Except that Theon moves it out of his reach.

“You’ve had enough, Stark,” Theon says.

“Ah, damn, give it back.”

“Forget it. If I can bear the stuck up jerk on my right you can bear your brother.”

“No, you don’t get it, I have the part of the family which looks completely insane glaring daggers at me, I  _need_  another drink. Give it back,  _please_.”

“Not unless you come here and make me,” Theon says with a tone of finality, and then he moves the glass out of the way.

Well, damn it. Robb  _would_  do that, but causing a scandal here isn’t a good idea, and so he stares down at his five forks and hopes that the next course gets here soon.

It doesn’t, and ten minutes later the situation has worsened. Uncle Brandon is having a conversation with Aerys which is going to end in  _blood_  if someone doesn’t stop it, considering that it’s been a consecutive crescendo of not so veiled sarcastic insults thrown at each other. His parents are more or less trying to talk with Rhaegar and keeping it civil but it’s obvious that Robb’s mother is entirely not approving of their whole ‘let’s just drop a six-month old on their doorstep since you have one kid already because we realized that we weren’t ready to be parents’ spiel. That red -haired friend of Rhaegar’s is looking at the happy couple as if he wants to cry and Robb has an idea that it’s because  _he_  wishes he was in his aunt’s place (he knows that face.  _Theon_  had it all of the time during the two weeks in which Robb dated Jeyne Westerling), Jon is trying not to be a jerk to his mother and he’s more or less failing, but maybe she’s delusional enough to actually buy that he means it. Rhaegar’s sister - Daenerys - is looking like someone who wants to bolt out of here - he feels her pain, he really does. And Viserys is throwing jabs at Theon. Again.

“So you and Robb Stark have been  _friends_  for long?”

“Since elementary school,” Theon hisses, snatching Robb’s glass away from him again after Robb refills it.

“ _Really_ ,” Viserys keeps on.

“Is there a  _problem_?” Robb cuts in, putting an arm around Theon’s shoulders - it doesn’t bring him closer to the glass, but it’s not the reason why he did it anyway.

“Well, from what I’ve seen of your family I figured you’d have more  _refined_  tastes in friends.”

Theon tenses under Robb’s arm and Robb decides that he’s too drunk for this bullshit.

That’s when he hears the conversation snippet from behind him.

“I’ve been fine,” Jon answers to something Lyanna said.

“We were wondering,” she says, “maybe you’d want to come over for a vacation at some point? We were thinking a week or two, wouldn’t that be nice?”

Robb can  _feel_  that Jon is about to tell her to fuck off or something equally rude, which would pretty much send the entire thing into a spiral of disaster.

“Theon, can I have my drinks back?” He asks, not caring to keep his voice down.

“Didn’t you hear me first? Make me,” Theon replies, sounding grateful he’s being given an out from the conversation with Viserys.

“Fine then,” Robb sighs. “By the way, Viserys?”

“What?”

“Maybe it’s not that my tastes aren’t refined. It’s that yours are too bloody stuck-up,” he says, and then he just goes for it and kisses Theon without even trying to stop himself from using his tongue.

Theon lets the glass fall to the ground and reaches up for his neck, kissing him back, and  _somewhat_  he ends up half in Robb’s lap, and Robb thinks he’d really like to tear off him the suit that Jon lent him (he went dressed in regular clothes out of spite and no one could dissuade him) but yeah, maybe it’s not the right time, and a moment later the room erupts in  _he doesn’t know what_  - Aerys is screaming about them being inappropriate, Jon is laughing  _good thing that_ , he hears Daenerys muttering  _finally something nice to look at_ , what the fuck, and by the time they part everyone is arguing about  _them_  and Theon just shakes his head and drags Robb away from the table saying that everyone else can go fuck themselves, they need to  _talk_.

Never mind that while they go Robb meets the eyes of the red haired friend, was his name Jon  _something_ , who - gives them a thumbs up? Robb gives one back and then lets Theon drag him away until they reach the males bathroom.

“Fuck, Robb, what the hell are you even thinking?”

“Well, maybe you were right, I shouldn’t have drunk that much,” Robb admits, even if he can’t find it in himself to feel sad about it.

“Christ,” Theon says, “and now do you think I can just  _ignore_  the entire thing? I mean, I’m fairly bothered, if it wasn’t clear.”

“Why, do you want to tear my horrid suit apart?”

“Shit,  _yes_ , and we have to be here for the entire day if no one kills someone else in the next room over,  _why_  did you have to do it?”

“I think we can compromise, can’t we?”

“As in?”

“I don’t need my suit  _jacket_ ,” Robb replies as innocently as he can.

When they in fact go back to the main hall, Robb’s jacket is ripped in three different parts and both their shirts are buttoned wrong, Jon has changed places and moved next to the  _other_  Jon - the red headed friend who kind of bursts out laughing when he sees them come in - and  _everyone else_  is arguing madly. Except the newlyweds who are looking at the scene as if it’s some kind of normal occurrence and they still have the face of two people who are entirely glad of how things are going.

“Stark,” Theon hisses, “this is the first and  _last_  time, clear?”

“I think I’m skipping on family weddings for the next three centuries,” he agrees fairly quickly.

A moment later, a few waiters come inside with the  _second_  first course.

It’s going to be a long day, Robb thinks, and he switches places with Theon when he sits back down - if anything, he can handle Viserys just fine.

He also swears to himself that tonight he’s going to spend at least two hours indulging in all kinds of sexual positions Theon feels like trying, if they get out of this mess in one piece.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Sam is not at the wedding and gets fairly worried for everyone's sake.

So, Sam  _didn’t_  go to the wedding.

Not because he didn’t want to - well, he  _didn’t_ , and Jon didn’t either, but you can’t exactly go to a wedding set in a  _Medieval castle_  when you accidentally broke your ankle three days before the blasted thing. So he had told Jon that maybe he could go with Ygritte and Jon had said that  _no_ , she’d have probably just laughed at his plight and anyway he was sure Robb could keep his reactions in check on his own. So Sam had just stayed home and waited for updates on his phone. Jon stopped texting about after the starters were brought out. Then he only got updates by  _Theon_  out of all people.

_If your boyfriend doesn’t murder his parents just by staring it’s going to be a miracle._

_My fucking boyfriend managed to get drunk and we made out in front of the entire table. And I should probably shut up about the rest. Snow seemed fairly amused._

_This wedding is a mess, be glad you’re not here._

_Snow_ still _hasn’t murdered his parents but I might be wanting to murder his uncle and he wouldn’t stop me._

 _Why is it that_ I _am the only person not drunk in here??_

_Also I hope you didn’t pick Snow’s clothes, I thought you had better taste than that._

By the time the evening rolls by Sam is fairly worried and wondering if he shouldn’t try to call Robb or Theon or  _something_  to at least make sure no one has died yet, but when he calls the both of them no one answers. Maybe they have it on silent. He knows Jon isn’t going to answer anyway, not if he stopped texting some seven hours ago. Then around ten he gets another text from Theon.

 _The fucking Queen of England just phoned for_ felicitations _because these freaks are old nobility and_ Robb _answered that call because no one else heard the phone. Also Snow is completely not fit for being here any longer I’m sending him home in a moment, fuck why am I the only sober person in this room again???_

Sam just stares at the text and reads it ten times, then another five just for good measure.

 _What the hell just went down_ , he thinks, and then hobbles to the kitchen to get some water and food ready because if he knows Jon he just drank without eating the food out of spite.

And then some forty minutes later the doorbell rings and he opens it and -

Right. He was asleep when Jon left this morning at the crack of dawn. Which is why he hadn’t supervised the clothes.

And.

“Jon, did you seriously go to a wedding during which  _the Queen called for congratulations_  dressed like  _this_?”

Jon shrugs as he sways his way inside - he’s drunk, though less than Sam had thought. “I wasn’t going to show up dressed  _nicely_ ,” he declares.

Well, considering that he has on a ridiculous pink shirt Grenn and Pyp gave him for a mock gift a few years ago which isn’t just  _really_  pink, it’s also one size bigger than it should have been, and so now he’s seeing a fairly sizable portion of Jon’s chest. Considering that he also put on  _leather trousers_  and the old boots he used to wear in high school during his ‘wait no one told me the eighties counterculture was over in the eighties’ phase, Sam doesn’t know if he should be horrified or turned on. Considering that Jon also put on  _fucking make-up_  - Sam can bet Sansa is responsible for that eyeliner - maybe he should just go straight for turned on. And then he notices something else.

“That’s - I mean - wait, did someone punch you in the face?”

Jon touches the red bruise on the right side of his cheeks. “Uh. Maybe? I think it was Viserys Targaryen, he tried to punch Robb at some point and Theon moved him out of the way and I kinda put myself in the middle? Not that anyone noticed.”

“Was that before the  _Queen_  called?”

“Oh, before, but not much, Robb answered because Theon throwing him to the side meant he was the closest to the phone so he actually heard it. Also I’m sure that at some point my mom - I mean, uh, Cat, not my  _actual_  mom, she might have touched the wine.”

Considering that Sam has only ever seen Mrs. Stark drunk  _once_  and that he had understood immediately why she doesn’t indulge in that specific vice - she can't handle it at all -, he can only imagine how it went.

“So she might have told straight to the  _groom’_ s face that they could have just asked for help instead of dumping responsibilities along with  _me_  on them, and then she added that it was  _their loss anyway_  and do you know what he said?”

“… What?”

“That he was glad  _he left his offspring with someone who stood their ground and probably raised them like that_  - I mean, how completely out of touch with reality they have to be?”

Thing is - Jon  _rarely_  gets that angry. Or passive aggressive. And along with the half-opened shirt, the leather pants and the fact that with the whole ‘let’s prepare for the wedding’ madness they’ve barely kissed in the last two weeks, Sam isn’t really giving much of a shit about what Rhaegar Targaryen’s opinions on raising children are.

“You know what, get over here and take that shirt off,” he cuts through Jon’s rant.

Jon stops at once.

“Wait,  _what_?”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off. And get over here already. It’s been two tough weeks, I need to get laid,  _you_  need to get laid so you stop overthinking this mess and you’ve been showing off your entire collarbone for the last five minutes when I’ve barely seen you lately, can you just give a guy a hand and move  _here_  since I have a broken ankle?”

At that, Jon laughs out loud and does, finally, move over, falling on Sam’s lap without too much finesse- right, he’s still half-drunk.

“Why,” Jon says, “this is the first good idea I’ve heard all day.”

“ _Good_ , then how about you get on with it?”

“I don’t know, maybe  _you_  should take it off. But  _you_  explain Pyp and Grenn if it gets ruined.”

“As if they wouldn’t find it hilarious,” Sam retorts, and then proceeds to do just that while Jon leans down and kisses him, still without any finesse to his motions, not that Sam gives a shit.

The phone rings a few minutes later, while Jon’s shirt falls to the ground after losing a few buttons, but neither of them hears it.

(Theon leaves a voice message that says  _well I hope you two are having more fun than us because for your amusement, Rhaegar’s gay best friend forever or what is giving Robb sex tips and I’m never going to have anything to do with your family gatherings again_. They both laugh a lot when they hear it, a few hours later. But not right now.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Theon can't believe this is his life, damn it.

“I mean,” Robb had said, the  _idiot_ , “you’ve been throwing shade at  _my_  boyfriend since the appetizers came out, but you do realize that at least I  _do_  have a love life?”

And  _that_  had been the moment Viserys tried to punch the idiot, Theon threw him out of the way and Jon took a punch for him, and good thing it didn’t go any further because the moment Jon punched back Viserys just backed out of it. God forbid he gets a bruise on his precious creamy skin - Theon would like to know how much fucking moisturizer the guy uses.

_Whatever_.

The point hadn’t even been that no one noticed it in the middle of the other fifteen discussions going on in the room, the point had been that Robb got thrown next to the only phone in the room, and the phone had started ringing, and no one else got up to answer it. Well,  _true_ , there’s so much noise in this room that it’s understandable that only Robb heard it.

Anyway, Robb has just taken up the receiver and Theon is hoping against hope that it’s only the catering or  _something_  -

“Hello?” Robb more or less slurs, but he doesn’t sound  _that_  drunk if you don’t know. “Yes, it is, the situation might be calmer but overall it’s not so bad. May I ask who am I talking to? I’m sorry, I really can’t hear that well -”

Then Theon sees Robb’s blood disappear from his face.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says a moment later, “of course, Your Majesty. I mean - uh, yes, yes, that’s exactly how it’s going, ma’am.”

…  _Your Majesty?_

Oh,  _fuck_. The drunk idiot is talking to the motherfucking  _queen of England_  and Theon can’t get drinks himself because  _someone_  has to stay fucking sober and  _how hasn’t Robb still caused a diplomatic incident?_

“Yes,” Robb confirms a moment later, “that’s… what  _Aerys_  is doing. What,  _he always was a bit volatile_? I’m sorry to hear that.”

Theon looks at the table. The guy is pretty much  _screaming_  in Brandon Stark’s face,  _a bit volatile_  is the epitome of understatement. 

“No, no, his  _children_  are all doing fine. More or less. No, Viserys  _hasn’t_  gotten into a fistfight, ma’am, but - what, is he being more or less unbearable? Well, I don’t want to - what, I mean, yes, sort of - yes, I’m Robb Stark, the bride’s nephew. Yes, let’s say Viserys and my significant other haven’t been getting along that well. What, are you asking - yes, ma’am, my significant other is  _not_  a girl. Oh, thank you very much, actually I was planning on asking him one of these months. But we’re still finishing our degree - still, having the possibility is amazing, isn’t it just?”

“Wait a moment,” Jon says, massaging the side of his face, “is my brother talking to the _Queen of England_  about  _possibly marrying you_?”

Theon wants to crawl into some hole and stay there for the next ten years.

And then _the other_  Jon, Rhaegar’s red-headed friend who’s pretty much been sticking with them since  _their_  Jon chatted him up before, sends Robb a stare full of… respect?

“You’re lucky, lad,” he says, patting Theon’s shoulder, his voice full of  _longing_?

“Hey, I told you,” Jon replies, still massaging his bruise, “my  _biological_  father? He totally doesn’t deserve you. If you want to take me up on that offer I’m sure my  _mom’s_ uncle would love to have coffee with you.”

“I’ll let you know,” his namesake replies, his tone going from longing to somewhat flattered, and -

“Jon, did you just try to hook your  _biological dad’s_ best friend up with  _your great-uncle_  or did I hear wrong?” Theon hisses.

“Hey, come on, they’d be  _perfect_  together, wouldn’t they?”

And then -

“Well, yes, I could scream and maybe someone would hear me but it’s a quite lost cause right now,” Robb keeps on, and  _how can he sound like he’s talking to a normal person and not the bloody Queen_ , Theon would like to know. “Maybe a few hours from now they will have calmed down. At least three or four, though. I will try to tell them, though. Oh, of course I will tell them that you offer your felicitations, ma’am. It was an honor - and oh, no, I’m really not - well, _thank you_ , and - of course, of course. Thank you and do have a lovely evening.”

When Robb closes the call, three sets of eyes are pointed at him.

“Was that the Queen,” Theon says.

“Yes. She was perfectly lovely. And she congratulated me in advance on  _our_  wedding,” Robb replies with a perfectly straight face.

_What the fuck_?

Meanwhile Jon gets cornered by some other Targaryen whose name Theon has forgotten, and Theon blanks out the conversation, but then he hears -

“Well, I was looking at you and Daenerys and while you might look a bit, let’s say,  _lower class_  than needed, you  _would_  make quite a lovely couple. You know, it’s a family tradition, and technically you aren’t  _that_  closely related anyway -”

And okay,  _no_ , from the way Jon’s eyes are turning into gray steel maybe it’s high time someone puts an end to this farce.

“How  _terrible_ ,” Theon says, grabbing Jon’s arm, “but he’s had a rough week and he’s tired and he’s also drunk, so I think I’m going to call a taxi and send him home. How about  _that_ ,” he keeps on, and then drags Jon out of the room.

“You should’ve let me punch them,” Jon slurs, sounding drunker than he has up until this point.

“Like  _hell_ , and now you’re going back to your sensible boyfriend who’s probably worried sick for your mental sanity right now.”

Theon waits until Jon is safely on the taxi and tells the driver the address, curses the heavens for the fifteenth time that he can’t drink, and goes back to the room. He’s in time for the third second course, and  _of course_  Robb is now chatting with Jon Connington, though it seems that it’s about the recently approved same-sex marriage legislation. And since food has arrived things calm down some, and Theon almost dares hope that they’ll get to dessert without other incidents, when of course Brandon Stark and Aerys start arguing  _again_  and the entire table goes along with it - excluded the newlyweds, still way too fucking oblivious.

And then he realizes  _what_  Robb and Jon Connington are discussing.

“Well,” Jon is saying, “back in the day you had to be a lot more hush hush about it. I mean, there’s a reason why -” he stops, sighs, then looks back at Robb, “ _he_  never knew. Well, no, I knew he was straight and I didn’t want to make things complicated, but you never know how _others_  could have reacted. Especially in our circle.”

“Man, your generation had it  _bad_. I’m really glad I was born when I was born,” Robb mutters, drinking some more. Yeah, Theon totally lost him there.

“At least someone who doesn’t romanticize the nineties.”

“Still, maybe you should have tried? I mean, it kinda sucks that - like, it’s just, sorry if you didn’t wanna know but Theon here kind of used to look like you when I was dating girls back in high school and -”

“Robb, for the love of everything,” Theon starts, but then Connington just laughs and cuts his rant there.

“Don’t sweat it, it’s fine. I know. It’s just that - I never thought there could be anyone else, but after this - I guess I might start looking around. It’s been too long anyway.”

“Wait,  _since_  -”

“Yeah,  _since_ ,” Connington replies, sounding more or less displeased. “While from what I gather it’s barely been three hours for you, or what.”

“Well, we try. I was in mind of making it up to him later, though.”

Oh,  _shit_.

“Really.”

“I mean, he’s the designated driver,” Robb says.

“Wait, you haven’t had anything to drink?”

“No,” Theon sighs. “And I drive a motorcycle, I can’t give my car keys to someone else.”

“Damn, that’s  _tough_. Hey, Robb?” Connington suddenly perks up. “You know, back in the day, I had a fling with this guy Oberyn Martell, he was the brother of one of Rhaegar’s exes and we met at this party and he realized what was going on and said I should have taken my mind off it. And you know, he did some pretty  _neat_  stuff with his tongue. If you want to know a foul proof way to  _make it up to him…”_

Theon is about to scream in horror, but then Robb’s eyes go a darker shade of blue and he leans back in the chair.

“Please,” he says, “ _do_  explain me what was it that he did with his tongue.”

Theon just tunes that out and tries to call someone - he  _needs_  to talk to someone sensible, maybe Sam is still up and about and Jon hasn’t gotten home yet, but no, the phone just rings so they’re probably getting laid, good for them, and then it goes to voicemail.

“Well,” he says, “I hope you two are having more fun than us because for your amusement, Rhaegar’s gay best friend forever or what is giving Robb sex tips and I’m never going to have anything to do with your family gatherings again, damn it.” Then he closes the call and goes back into the room and oh  _damn_  it Robb is  _still_  talking with Jon Connington about - about making a dental dam out of condoms, shit, this is going to be a long night, and then the phone rings.

Damn. He’s exactly in the same place Robb was before.

He swallows and answers it - at this point he might as well.

“Hello? Er, yes, it’s the Targaryen-Stark wedding, the groom and the bride are currently a bit indisposed - but - but  _of course Your Royal Highness_ , sir, it’s just that - wait, what? Well. Yes. Yes, it’s - as usual. For Targaryen weddings. From what I gather. Uhm, no, I’m not - I’m the - _partner_  of the bride’s nephew. Was I happy about the new legisl - of course I was. Your mother told you - yes, she called before, I’m sorry that they couldn’t - oh, you suspected? All - all right, I will try, sir. Of course. Oh, thank you. And, uhm, best regards to the Princess Consort? Obligated. Thank you.”

Well,  _shit_ , he thinks as he looks at the disaster that the table has become, Asha is  _never_  going to believe that  _the Prince of Wales_  wished him and Robb the best in the future.

If he ever survives the night, at least he hopes whatever advice Connington is dishing Robb might make him forget about this entire freak show.

 

End.


End file.
